


Divinity

by Tokyo_the_Glaive



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokyo_the_Glaive/pseuds/Tokyo_the_Glaive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eirika and L'Arachel grow to love one another over the course of the war.  It isn't easy, but worthwhile things rarely are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divinity

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired loosely by the Restoration Queen patch to Sacred Stones.

If Eirika had to pick one word to describe L’Arachel, it would be _perfect_.

Of course, that hadn’t always been the case.When they’d first met, L’Arachel had been _whirlwind._ She’d come and gone in the blink of an eye on the edge of the Za’ha Woods, leaving Eirika wondering if she’d really been there at all.Still she had too much to worry about—the fall of Renais, the death of King Fado, _the death of her father_ —were still too fresh in her mind to worry about strangers traipsing about with no sense of direction.

Later, in Port Kiris, L’Arachel had made much the same impression.The Sacred Stones, and the world by proxy, were in danger.If Grado’s generals got their hands on those that remained, the Demon King could rise again.That possibility had to be avoided at all costs.

It wasn’t until Eirika met L’Arachel for the third time— _blessings do come in threes_ , hadn’t that been what L’Arachel said?—that she well and truly saw the other woman.

In that abandoned fort swarming with the undead, L’Arachel had stood proud with Dozla.Even through the gloom and the wretched stench of the dead and the horrible moans of agony as the corpses forced themselves to do their master’s bidding, she’d been unfazed.L’Arachel held her staff high to clear the air, tended the wounded, and grinned at death.

Eirika initially thought that L’Arachel had a death wish, with all of her antics.She thought herself indestructible.Only later did Eirika realize that smiling through fear and standing tall in the face of adversity was how L’Arachel fought the horrors of the world.

* * *

L’Arachel had recognized Eirika from the first.  When her uncle, the Divine Emperor, Pontifex Mansel, determined that L’Arachel was to succeed him as ruler of Rausten, he’d given her a rigorous political curriculum.  L’Arachel knew who was who and what was what better than most kings.  Courtesy of Rausten’s spies, which rivaled Frelia’s extensive network (L’Arachel would have said _surpassed_ , but that’s neither here nor there) L’Arachel had meticulously drawn portraits of each member of each royal family, and of all of the sitting elders in Carcino.  She’d memorized them all, then put deeds and prowess and glory to the names.

So, Eirika was no unknown quantity to her.L’Arachel had been tempted, that first time in Za’ha Woods, to offer her divinely-ordained assistance, but at the time, Eirika had been focused on finding her brother, Ephraim, not on purging the world of the creeping darkness.For the good of the continent, L’Arachel had forced herself to move on.

Upon their second encounter in Port Kiris, L’Arachel had made a tactical error.She’d tracked Eirika and her army down, hoping to join them for what promised to be an epic adventure.Yet, she’d miscalculated; Eirika remembered her.Really, L’Arachel was flattered, and she’d expected so much, for how could one _not_ remember her?, but upon seeing her again, Eirika had clammed up.“Erina” she’d called herself; Erina, a common mercenary.As if the army following her every move could be mistaken for a band of mercenaries.Still, Eirika hadn’t seemed to pay L’Arachel too much attention, and she had that knight with her—L’Arachel knew him from her portraits; Seth was his name—and so, unsure what to do, L’Arachel fled.Dozla had the good graces not to say anything, but Rennac had griped that she was even more erratic than usual.L’Arachel didn’t admit it, and on they went.

The third time, though.Eirika had charged through those unholy monsters as if driven by a stroke of the divine.L’Arachel was prepared to fall to her knees and declare each sweep of Eirika’s blade holy, holy, holy, for what could it be but deliverance?Even with Dozla’s fantastic skills with an axe, without Rennac’s keen eyes, they were as good as blind in that fort.L’Arachel’s staff could help, true, but even as she lit the air as far as she could, she’d felt her resolve wavering.She remembered being informed of her parents’ deaths, how they had perished alone but for themselves, outnumbered by bandits and abandoned by the traitorous knights vying for revolution who had led them into a secluded wood spinning stories of a village beset by plague.Much as L’Arachel admired her parents for all they had done—history would remember them as true altruists, giving away what they had and serving the people as best they could—she feared dying as they had.

But Eirika—Eirika had prevented just such an eventuality.Just as L’Arachel had felt her resolve chipping, there was the princess of Renais and her retinue.Had it been appropriate, L’Arachel would have thrown her arms around Eirika and sobbed.As it was, she spoke to Dozla, relaying orders.She kept the shake out of her voice and hid the tremor in her hands as she realized just how close she’d come to death.

After that, she promised herself, she would not leave Eirika’s side.

* * *

Their relationship grew slowly.  Eirika began to think of L’Arachel as _childish_ and _selfish_ and _naive_.  Ephraim chided her when Eirika intimated so much.

“One would have used such terms to describe you, not so long ago,” Ephraim said.Eirika had flushed and had said nothing.Ephraim had apologized for offending her, but he’d stung her in a place that still ached, that might always ache.Eirika had always been placed in Ephraim’s shadow.No matter what she did, she was still the child to Ephraim’s man, the selfish to Ephraim’s sacrifice, the naive to Ephraim’s wisdom.Their father hadn’t meant to put Eirika down, to make her more like a baby than the grown woman she was, but she’d felt it nonetheless.Their father had determined that Ephraim would take the crown in spite of Ephraim’s own protestations because it was a son’s duty to his father to carry on his legacy.Eirika had stood by, tight-lipped and, yes, just a little jealous.

L’Arachel, as a result, was something painful to be around, at least for Eirika.She reminded Eirika of all that she wasn’t—flamboyant, boisterous, _happy_.L’Arachel triumphed again and again in the face of adversity.She’d saved multitudes, won the right to take her uncle’s place on the throne of Rausten and still gave all of her time and energy to making the world a better place.Where Eirika felt empty and drained with each passing day, L’Arachel seemed radiant and effervescent.

When Eirika made the connection between L’Arachel and herself, Eirika felt something inside her break.She felt an intense longing toward the other woman—something indefinable.She at once wanted to be close, close enough to hear her pulse in her chest, close enough to feel her breath on her cheek.Yet, at the same time, Eirika felt the need to run, to get as far from L’Arachel as possible.Every comparison between the two of them would be unfavorable to Eirika; she couldn’t hold a candle to the jewel of Rausten.

Still, Eirika could not move.L’Arachel had pinned her in place without knowing and without trying.Eirika felt helpless and utterly at a loss for what to do with the radiant creature the gods had seemingly dropped at her feet.

* * *

For L’Arachel, Eirika was a tough nut to crack.  Utterly practical, she managed everything but seemed to keep no time to herself.  L’Arachel wanted to force her to take a step back, take a breath, stop running for a second—but every time she got close, Eirika would start up another task.  For the longest time, L’Arachel thought she’d done something wrong.  She sulked until Dozla suggested that Eirika was perhaps unaware of L’Arachel’s intentions.

What those intentions were, even L’Arachel didn’t know.She prayed, even more than usual, for guidance.Eirika had changed something within her.When L’Arachel rose to see the sun rise over a new day, she often wished Eirika were there with her.When she saw an exceedingly beautiful fruit in a market, a pretty dress, or a shiny trinket, her first thoughts were not for herself but for whether or not Eirika would like them.It was a deeply disturbing development in her mind.If she prioritized one person over many, how could she become the person she aspired to be?

Much as she tried to shove Eirika back into the slot in which she belonged—princess of Rausten, leader of an army, doer of good—Eirika popped right back out with no more than the flash of a smile.

At night, L’Arachel lay in her tent and closed her eyes and pictured the princess.She hoped her uncle and her people would forgive her, because she feared—no, she _believed_ —she’d found her right match, and it wasn’t quite what they’d be expecting.

* * *

 _Perfect_ came to Eirika’s mind the first time they went out together.  It was just a stroll, but L’Arachel had been so excited that they were alone together, taking a break, that Eirika couldn’t help but grin.  She hadn’t seen much of L’Arachel until then, only in brief spurts that were often too short for her taste.  Now, to have L’Arachel all to herself, Eirika felt herself the luckiest person on the continent.  Come the Demon King or no, she had L’Arachel.  It was hard not to have faith with her there.  To L’Arachel, blueberries were a miracle and the grass was the work of the gods.  There was nothing good that hadn’t come from the divine, and L’Arachel appreciated every last drop of it.

Eirika, for her part, thanked whatever gods there were that she’d been given the privilege of breathing the same air as L’Arachel.She prayed for deliverance from the evils that seemed to flow ever more freely from Grado, this is true, but for more than that, Eirika remained conspicuously silent.

* * *

They discussed the boundaries, or lack thereof, of their relationship in bits and pieces.  L’Arachel, Eirika quickly discovered, was tactile.  She liked to brush her hand against Eirika’s, or hold it.  When she was exhausted and no one else was looking, she would press herself against Eirika’s side and rest her head on her shoulder.  Eirika would hold her there in silence until L’Arachel could resume being herself.

Eirika, on the other hand, had a tendency to lose track of time.While L’Arachel was hopeless when it came to a sense of direction, Eirika was much the same when it came to knowing how long she’d been at a task.L’Arachel often found her, nearly asleep over maps and battle formations and all of the assorted documents that came from trying to rebuild and reestablish a country in the midst of horrible war, and helped her get to bed.

Had anyone been watching, they would have noticed that those nights, L’Arachel never left Eirika’s tent.In the morning, she could be found curled in Eirika’s arms, sleeping as peacefully as she had when she was a child.

* * *

Neither Eirika nor L’Arachel operated under the presumption that the other was perfect.  That being said, both would agree that they were each perfect for each other just the way that they were, with all of their perfections and imperfections side by side, ever growing and changing in step with one another.  Day after day, they remained together by choice as opposed to obligation, and the freedom to come or go made their bond ever stronger for the knowledge that it _was_ a choice, a choice continuously made.

* * *

Bards sang of the love of Eirika, crowned Queen of Renais upon the abdication of her brother, and L’Arachel, Divine Empress of Rausten.  After the war, they returned to their respective countries, but time apart could not thwart their affections.  L’Arachel’s declaration of their upcoming marriage threw Rausten’s holy men into an uproar, but somehow, they persevered.  And no wonder—they had each other.

 


End file.
